The Young Riders of Pern
by EmeraldDragon951
Summary: The dragonmen of Pern will soon be unimportant and forgotten, but the newest dragonriders will not accept it. The world is a big place and if North and South don't want them, there are plenty of other places, until a new danger threatens all of Pern.
1. Chapter I

**So this is the updated version of chapter I. Sorry if you read the crappy, error filled one. No new details. Just cleared up some stuff. If there are any other errors, let me know. I will fix them up. Unfortunately, my computer old and crappy, so I have no spelling or grammar check. **

**(Sorry, I'm only about half way through The White Dragon so I honestly don't have all the details I should and I might screw something up. Sorry, but it is an AU and stuff is weird)**

**The Rest of Pern**

**Chapter I: The Impression**

**Late Night, Benden Time**

**Early Morning, Ruatha Time**

"It's wonderful," Tarant whispered as he ran his hand over the hardened shell of the dragon egg before him.

"Like that one, huh?" His foster-brother, Karick asked.

"This is the one I want to Impress," the first boy said with a nod.

"What if it's a green?"

"I don't care," Tarant snapped as he ran his hand across the mottled egg.

"What if it's an oversized fire lizard, like Jaxom's?"

"Oh lay off, you dead glow!" The older boy snapped. "Ruf was the only deformed dragon ever!"

"His name is Ruth!" A voice shot out across the hatching ground. Tarant and Karick cringed at the sound of the voice. They both turned to look over at the speaker, who was standing at the door. "You shouldn't be here!" F'lessan snapped as he looked at the two candidates. "Now, where's Tyiana?"

"Here," a voice replied meekly. F'lessan looked around and sighed when he saw the young girl in between the clutch of mottled eggs, near the shimmering queen egg.

"What are you three doing here?" The bronze rider demanded. "If Ramoth comes back, she'll-,"

"Oh, lay off, Felessan," Tarant sneered. "She's down at the feeding ground."

"My name is F'lessan," the bronze rider said, his tone acid. "And Ramoth's been down there for almost an hour. She'll be back soon."

"Are going to tell F'lar or Lessa or Manora?" Karick asked nervously.

"No," F'lessan said with a sigh. "I used to sneak down here all the time."

"I remember," Tarant replied bitterly.

F'lessan sighed. "Oh come on, Tarant. You're better off waiting for the right dragon, than grabbing the wrong one!"

"Whatever," the boy muttered as he started towards the exit. He pushed passed the bronze rider and stalked off. The bronze rider was about to call after his friend, but his head suddenly snapped to attention and he was silent.

"Golanth says that Ramoth's coming! Go!"

With no further urging, Karick and his foster sister scrambled out of the hatching grounds. F'lessan walked out behind them and watched as they walked towards their quarters. He sighed and shook his head. "Thanks," he muttered under his breath to Golanth, his beloved bronze dragon.

_Nothing of it. _The bronze replied from the feeding ground. _Lucky I was here._

F'lessan agreed with a laugh. "I'll be right down," he told the bronze as he started towards the feeding ground. He stopped walking and considered going to see Tarant. He knew that the young man was bitter about the fact that he, F'lessan, had Impressed a bronze at his first Impression. That had been almost two Turns ago and Tarant had not succeeded at either of the Impressions since then. The one that was expected for next week would be his forth and possibly final attempt. His foster-siblings, Karick and Tayiana would be attempting to Impress for their first times. F'lessan wasn't sure if Tarant could stand the shame of watching his siblings Impress, while he could not.

_Are you coming? _Golanth inquired lazily.

"Yes," the bronze rider replied, snapping out of his thoughts. "I'm coming."

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Tarant watched as F'lessan walked the other way, towards the feeding grounds. His muscles tensed as he watched the bronze rider walk away. Once they had been friends, but that had changed the moment Felessan had impressed Golanth. Tarant had hated the bronze dragon from the moment he had hatched. He had stolen away his best friend! What made it worse was Felessan's pity towards him. The bronze rider had gone with his father, F'lar, and uncle, F'nor to the Southern continent in secret. They had managed to bring back a clutch of fire lizard eggs. Felessan had quickly offered him a bronze egg. That had been the last time they were truly friends.

Tarant walked back towards the hatching ground and walked back inside. He could see Ramoth, crooning over her eggs, watching them protectively. The young man approached the eggs quietly, but he was not silent enough to avoid Ramoth's detection. The great golden dragon turned her eyes on the young candidate and roared angrily. Tarant trembled slightly, but did not lose his nerve. He continued to walk towards the eggs. The senior queen of Benden shrieked furiously, as she roused to her hind legs and spread her great wings.

Tarant reached the clutch of eggs and placed his hand on the one egg that he had selected previously. Ramoth's shriek echoed off the stone walls, but the young man only kept his gaze on the queen's.

"You don't need to protect this one!" He cried. "This one is mine! I'll always protect it!" Ramoth seemed to understand what he had said, for she no longer seemed to be panicking, so much as confused. "I'm going to Impress this one!" Tarant cried. "He will be mine!"

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High above the hatching grounds, standing on the ledge where the dragons generally perched themselves, the weyrleaders of Benden Weyr watched the scene bellow. F'lar watched as Tarant stood up to the queen dragon with respect and admiration for the boy, while Lessa was apprehensive. "She's not pleased with the order to stop, F'lar!"

"Keep her calm," the bronze rider replied.

"I'm trying," she snapped.

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Tarant stood unmoving as he watched Ramoth. Underneath his hand, he felt something rumble. He turned his head to look at the egg he was touching. It was shaking beneath his touch. "The eggs!" He whispered.

_Jaxom! Jaxom! The eggs are hatching!_

Lord Jaxom of Ruatha Hold yawned as he woke up slowly, the words of his white dragon, Ruth, only barely penetrating his sleeping head. Then it hit him. "The hatching!" He cried. The Lord of Ruatha quickly scrambled from his bed and ran to his dresser. He struggled into his trousers and pulled on a warm shirt, that would try to hold off the intense cold of the _between_. The young lord ran out of his chambers and through the halls of the Hold. He passed Lord Warder, Lytol in the corridor, along with Masterharper Robinton.

"The hatching!" Jaxom cried to the both of them. "Ruth says it's happening!"

"The hatching?" Robinton said blankly. "At which Weyr?" he called after Jaxom.

"Benden!"

Before the Masterharper could get anymore information from the young man, he was gone. The harper turned to Lytol and gave him a questioning look. "I will not be attending," the Lord Warder replied, his expression somewhat pained.

"Aye," Robinton said with a nod. He had expected as much. The harper turned to the bronze miniature dragon on his left shoulder. "Zair, go fetch Mirrim and Path. Have them give me a lift to Benden Weyr."

The fire lizard shrieked cheerfully and then vanished.

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Jaxom flung the doors open to the makeshift weyr that served as Ruth's home and ran to his dragon. "Ready?" He asked the dragon.

_Ready. _Ruth replied.

The young Lord of Ruatha hopped on his dragon's back. The dragon quickly took to the air and flew out of the weyr. Once he was at a high enough altitude, the white dragon vanished. The piercing cold of the _between_ struck Jaxom full force. Any traces of sleep that had plagued the young lord were gone as the freezing cold dug into his bones. A moment later the cool night air of Benden struck him, instantly warming him.

_Ruth! Ruth! _The white dragon called to the watchdragon.

Ruth quickly soared towards a perch near the hatching ground, depositing Jaxom, and then going to join a small band of fire lizards. Jaxom quickly made his way to the stands, where he found F'lessan, Mirrim, and Menolly. "Have any hatched yet?" The young lord inquired.

"Not yet," F'lessan said coldly.

"What's wrong?" Jaxom asked his friend, noting the bitterness in his voice.

"Remember Tarant?" Mirrim asked. Jaxom nodded his head, vaguely recalling the competitive youth. "He was on the hatching ground earlier. Apparently he was alone with Ramoth when the eggs started."

"What?" Jaxom cried, aghast.

"Right after I had thrown him out," F'lessan added.

"Unbelievable," Menolly muttered.

"Look!" Mirrim said, pointing to the grounds. The candidates were coming onto the grounds, all garbed in white robes.

"Jaxom, are there any Ruathan girls down there?" Menolly asked.

"One, I think," he replied. "I don't remember her name."

"There's Tarant," Mirrim pointed out. "And Karick, and Tyiana, and Bria, and Langot."

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Tarant kept his eyes on the eggs as they began to crack and the small noses of the small dragons peeked out. A nearby egg split apart as the small blue dragon inside burst out and fell on the warm sands on the grounds. The slimy blue creature managed to push itself up and crawl towards the candidates. A few boys backed off. Tarant stepped aside, letting the creature pass him as it crawled towards Langot, a young boy who had been recruited from Benden Hold. His eyes moved back to the egg he had claimed as his own. It was shaking, but there still wasn't a crack in the shell.

"The queen egg!" Tarant looked to the group of girl who were gathered around the single queen egg. He searched quickly and found Tyiana eagerly waiting. The egg had split and the queen dragon was slipping out quickly. It landed on the ground and howled at the girls around it, scaring half of them backwards. It began to crawl towards them, looking for the intended girl.

"Tyiana, Tyiana, Tyiana," Tarant chanted hopefully. His hopes quickly fell as the queen walked passed her and looked up at another girl, Laria. Tarant sighed. Only two of the dragons had hatched, and already he was sourly disappointed with the turn out.

The girls began to walk away from the grounds, all sourly disappointed, except for Laria. Tyiana's feet shuffled through the sand as she passed a small group of eggs.

_Stop! Please!_

Tyiana stopped, causing the girl behind her to run into her painfully. She stumbled forward and looked around. "Who…"

The egg nearest to Tyiana split apart and a small green dragon fell out at her feet. The two looked at each other in the eye and the Impression was made.

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F'lessan watched as the rest of the eggs hatched. Now there were only seven eggs left. So far there had been seven bronzes, twelve browns, ten blues, and thirteen greens, including Tyiana's. F'lessan watched intently as the egg that Tarant had claimed as his own began to crack and split. Small crawls tore through the shells and a small bronze creature fell out.

_It is his_. Golanth spoke.

The small bronze looked up at Tarant and all the bitterness seeped out of the boy. "Wornth," he whispered.

_I'm hungry. _The small dragon spoke.

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"It's better than Impressing a queen!" Karick assured Tyiana as he stroked the wedge shaped head of his blue, Farrith.

"You and Mirrim are the only women to have ever Impressed fighting dragons," Tarant informed her. "Tons of women have Impressed queens!"

"I don't care what she is," Tyiana replied, clearly not needing the assurance they were giving her. "She's mine and I'm hers."

"Congratulations, T'rant," F'lessan said as he came up to the table where the three new dragonriders were sitting. Tarant turned around and smiled. F'lessan had just called him T'rant. It was a sign of respect and an offer of friendship.

"You were right, F'lessan. It was worth the wait," the new bronze rider said as he looked down at Wornth.

"I knew I was," the older bronze rider replied, as he seated himself beside his friend. "Have you heard yet?"

"What?" Karick asked.

"Lessa thinks Coranth is going to rise to mate soon!"

"Ladies and Gentlemen!" F'lar called out to the weyr. Everyone's attention snapped to him, and everyone was silent.

F'lar went on to speak of the new candidates and the training they would receive in the near future. Then he went on to officially swear in each of the new riders and present them with their new names. T'rant had never been prouder than the moment when the Benden Weyrleader laid his hands on his shoulder and officially dubbed him a Dragonrider of Pern.

**Well there's chapter one. I don't think I wrote anything that would conflict with later books, but if I did, I'm sorry. Anywho, please read and review. Criticism of the constructive variety is always appreciated. Chapter 2 should be up soon.**


	2. Chapter II

**The Young Riders of Pern**

**Chapter II: A Potential Problem**

**Mid-Morning, Benden Time**

T'rant sighed as he fell onto his bed. Taking care of Wornth was getting harder and harder each day. More accurately, there was more and more dragon to oil each day. It was hard to imagine that a dragon that was only a week old could be so big, even a bronze! His lip curled into a satisfied smile though. Despite the amount of work and effort that went into it, he still loved taking care of his Wornth. There was nothing more satisfying than listening to his dragon's happy whining.

He glanced over to look at the sleeping bronze. He watched as the dragon's body rose and fell with its breathing. The bronze dragon made several grunting sounds in its sleep. T'rant wondered sleepily if dragons even could dream. He would have to ask F'lessan about that. He and F'lessan had been getting closer over the last week. All of the anger and frustration had disappeared since T'rant had Impressed. In fact, the two of them spent almost all of their spare time together. Not that they had a lot of that. If T'rant wasn't busy taking care of Wornth, F'lessan was off with his Golanth, fighting Thread.

Tomorrow would be another painful day. Thread was due to fall over the weyr. Despite the fact that he was now an official dragonrider, he would not be fighting Thread with Wornth. He would still be with the flamethrower crew, making sure that no Thread got passed the dragons. F'lessan had complained about that too when he had first Impressed. There really didn't seem to be any point. The Benden dragons never missed Thread in the air.

The idea of leaving Wornth, even just for the four hours of the fall was unbearable. His Wornth was his life now. There was nothing that should be able to separate them. It was infuriating that something as pointless as chores and paranoia would keep them apart. And he knew he wasn't the only one who felt that way. K'rick didn't want to be separated from blue Farrith either! It was cruel!

_But I'll still be with you. _

T'rant looked back over at Wornth. The dragon's eyes were focused on him and welled with concern. "I know you will. I just don't like being separate from you," T'rant replied to the bronze.

_I could fly with the ground crew tomorrow! We could fight the ground Thread together!_

The bronze rider smiled at the bronze dragon affectionately. "No," he said with a sigh. "I doubt Manora or Lessa would permit that. It was a good idea, though."

_Don't worry. Soon we'll be able to fight Thread together in the skies. _

"Soon we will," T'rant agreed with a nod. "Soon we will."

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**Early-Morning, Benden Weyr**

The next morning, T'rant and K'rick stood with the other weyrlings in the armory. Manora was busy handing out flamethrowers to the young dragonriders and unsuccessful candidates. They looked around anxiously to see if they could find Tyiana, but she didn't seem to be around. They hadn't seen her at all since she had Impressed Hyrith.

"Come on," K'rick said as he patted T'rant on the shoulder and pointing out that they were up to get the flamethrowers. The two new riders walked up towards Manora. They each grabbed a flamethrower and started towards the door.

T'rant and K'rick looked up to the sky and saw dragons flying around the Star Stone. He could see F'lar flying with bronze Mnementh and F'lessan on bronze Golanth, leading another wing. The dragons were already in "V" formation and were about to fly out. T'rant looked up at F'lessan's Golanth enviously. Someday that would be him! Someday, he would lead of wing of dragons into battle against Thread!

"Tarant, let's go!" One of the unsuccessful candidates called after him. He turned and saw Iazol, son of I'nol.

"My name is T'rant," he sneered as he started to follow the flame crew.

"Ignore him," K'rick advised. "He's just angry that he didn't Impress. That was his seventh Impression, you know."

"It was?" T'rant gasped as he looked at the older boy. It had always bothered him that Iazol was so angry about everything, but now that he thought about it, it made sense. In less than a Turn he would be considered to old to Impress and would probably go to the Crafthall to join his mother as a farmer.

"And you were worried after four bad Impressions?" K'rick teased. T'rant grinned at his foster-brother's words.

"I'm sure he'll make it next time," the bronze rider said with a shrug.

"Maybe, if next time's just a clutch of fire lizards," K'rick said with a snort. "That guys a jerk!"

"I know, but still, he deserves something… I guess."

"Yeah," K'rick agreed. "A green fire lizard."

T'rant chuckled and shook his head. "You were lucky, K'rick. You Impressed on your first try. You have no idea how depressing it is to watch your friends and partners move on, while you have to keep waiting."

"Yeah, but I thought you said it was worth it," K'rick pointed out.

"It was," the older boy said firmly. "But that doesn't mean I liked it. It doesn't mean I like watching F'lessan take to the sky, while I have to walk around with a flamethrower."

_I'm sorry I'm not bigger or stronger. _Wornth said mournfully from back at the weyr.

"Hey, it's not you!" T'rant told him firmly. "It was more than worth the wait to have you and it'll be worth the wait to fight Thread with you."

_I'm sorry. _The dragon repeated.

"There is absolutely nothing to be sorry for!" T'rant told him even more firmly than before. "I am not disappointed in you at all!"

_One day, I will make you proud. _The bronze swore. _You will be the greatest dragonman in all of Pern!_

"As long as I'm with you, I already am," the rider replied with a smirk.

"T'rant, look!"

The bronze rider snapped to attention and looked up. He could see the dragons over head, but even farther above them he saw the deadly enemy of Pern. The silvery strands of Thread were beginning to fall quickly from the sky. The mindless spores would soon strike the area and attempt to burrow deep into the ground, draining the land of all organic life.

He could see F'lessan's wing flying towards the falling spores, ready to sear them to a crisp. Golanth opened his great mouth and belched a large burst of flames, taking out a falling clump of Thread. Two blue dragons from F'lessan's wing broke formation and dove down towards the ground, attempting to sear any Thread that may have escaped Golanth's powerful onslaught.

T'rant could see himself riding Wornth out there someday. He saw his beautiful beast expertly dodging in and out of Thread, while others were forced to jump _between _in order to avoid being laced by the dangerous strands. He saw his great beast belching flames in great streams, searing his enemy. No other bronze rider would be able to keep up with him! Not even F'lar on his great Mnementh! One day, he would fly the senior queen of Benden, once Lessa had retired leadership to a new queen.

"T'rant, look out!" K'rick cried.

T'rant looked up just in time to see a small clump of Thread had broken through the Benden dragons defenses and was falling straight for him. He was knocked off of his feet and out of the way by K'rick. The two new riders rolled away from the Thread which struck the ground, dropping their flamethrowers.

"Watch it, you dead glow!" Iazol shouted as he walked over to the Thread that was now attempting to burrow. He pointed his flamethrower at the spores and unleashed a blast of flames on them.

"How did you Impress a bronze?" The boy muttered as he started away. "Stupid dragon."

T'rant's muscles tensed as he heard what the boy had said about his Wornth. "Take that back!" He seethed as he pulled himself up.

"T'rant, ignore him," K'rick advised. "He's not worth it!"

The bronze rider ignored him. He and Iazol merely glared at one another. "What did you say about my dragon, Iazol?" He demanded.

"He's stupid for picking you!"

"Don't you dare talk about my Wornth that way!" T'rant shouted as he marched up to the dragonless candidate. Iazol sighed. He hadn't actually intended on getting into a fight with anyone right now, not that he couldn't take him on. His main problem was that he didn't have a good come back. Besides, why should they fight? They were stuck in the middle of Threadfall!

"Whatever," he muttered as he turned to walk away.

"Don't insult my dragon when you can't Impress one!" 

That hit home. Iazol spun around angrily, dropping his flamethrower and stormed up to T'rant. "What'd you say?" He snapped.

"You heard me!" T'rant snapped. "You have no reason talking about dragons when you can't even Impress!"

Rage exploded inside of Iazol and he quickly let it go. He pulled his fist back and swung at the bronze rider. T'rant was a little slow on his feet and took a blow to the side of his head. He lost his balance and started to stumble backwards. Iazol took the opportunity to charge at him and knock him off his feet.

"Get off me!" T'rant cried.

Iazol jumped back to his feet and slammed his boot down on T'rant's chest, knocking the breath from the young rider. K'rick quickly jumped in and knocked Iazol off of T'rant. The blue rider ducked as his opponent came back at him. He spun around quickly and gave him a jab to the leg. Iazol fell to his knee, scraping it against the twigs on the ground. He grunted in annoyance and turned on the blue rider. With a snicker, K'rick slammed his fist into Iazol's face, knocking him to the ground.

"Enough!" Manora shrieked as she came rushing towards the three boys. She rounded quickly on K'rick, seeing as he was the only one standing. "You are a dragonman now! This is intolerable!" She shrieked. "The same goes doubly for you, T'rant!"

The bronze rider was slowly picking himself up off the ground. His hand was clamped to his scraped scalp. He groaned in slight pain as he took the pressure off of it. He looked down at Iazol, who was getting up slowly, his nose bleeding freely.

"We are in the middle of a Threadfall! Great shells!" Manora cried. "You two-," she indicated T'rant and Iazol. "Go back and have Brekke patch you up! Now!" The two boys looked at each other and then away.

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**Late Evening, Benden Time**

"How dare you," Lessa seethed as she looked at T'rant. The senior weyrwoman had come straight to his weyr when she had heard about the fight during the Threadfall. "You are a bronze dragonrider!"

"He insulted my dragon!" T'rant replied through clenched teeth.

"The people of Pern constantly insult dragonmen! You cannot allow that to infuriate you!" She snapped.

"Weyrwoman, he insulted the honor of my dragon! I will never allow anyone-,"

"Do not presume that you may make that sort of statement in my weyr," the weyrwoman said with a tone colder than ice.

"And you would have been fine if he had spoken that way of Ramoth," the young boy muttered.

"Don't compare the two of us, T'rant! I didn't react so rashly last night! As far as I'm concerned, you shouldn't have been able to Impress after treating my Ramoth that way!"

T'rant stopped dead. Had he just heard her? Did she know he had touched the egg before hand? Of course she did. It was in her eyes. Ramoth had told her everything! "I…"

"Don't start," she cut him off. "I abide the fact that weyr boys sneak into the hatching ground when Ramoth is in the feeding grounds. I will not accept the fact that you stood up to my dragon and told her away. She is the senior queen dragon of Benden. She deserves all the respect a bronze rider like you may have!"

"Hmph," T'rant snorted. "I do have respect for her. I have the same respect I have for her as I do any dragon. But I felt Wornth calling me! I knew I had already Impressed him in the shell! There was no point in having her protect him!"

"Impressed in the shell? It's impossible!"

"It happened."

_Lessa! Come here, quickly! _

Lessa turned away from him and listened to the urgency in Mnementh's voice. "I'll deal with you later!" She muttered as she turned away and left.

T'rant sat down on his bed and sighed. He had been a dragonman for a week and his weyrwoman already hated him. Typical.

_I will speak with Ramoth. _Wornth offered. _She will believe me when I tell her it happened. She'll know that I called you back. _

"Thank you," T'rant replied with relief.

_You should sleep. It's been a long day._

T'rant readily agreed. He would have a lot of special chores from Manora tomorrow. Oh well. At least he and K'rick would be working together. He fell into his bed and closed his eyes wearily. The next thing he knew, he was asleep.

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"I do not want you attacking the weyrlings," F'lar said calmly.

"F'lar, he shouldn't have been allowed to Impress!" Lessa yelled back.

"F'lessan and I agreed that the boy deserved it, despite certain… misdeeds directly prior to the hatching."

"My Ramoth hasn't been so agitated since her queen egg was stolen by the Southerners, F'lar!" Lessa shrieked. "It was an act of disrespect and a complete disregard for every rule in the weyr!"

"And what if the boy is speaking the truth? What if he truly had Impressed Wornth in the shell? There would be nothing we could do. They were bound together before we had a chance to step in!" The weyrleader stood up and moved in, closer to his mate. He wrapped his arms around her pulled her into a close embrace. His arm began to slowly stroke her back. Lessa's shoulders sagged as she slowly released the anger she was feeling. "Lessa, he was meant to Impress Wornth. Let him be."

"F'lar, he could become a very serious problem," she warned.

"F'lessan will keep an extra eye on him."

Lessa sighed and looked up into his amber eyes. "I'm going to bed," she told him. "Don't stay up too late."

"I won't," he replied.

He sighed as he watched her walk away. Despite everything he had just said to assure her, he was not so sure he could assure himself that it was altogether wise or safe to keep T'rant in the weyr. He might honestly be better off under the personal eye of N'ton at Fort Weyr or T'gul at the High Reaches Weyr. The bronze rider shook his head. He knew that was a bad idea. He should stay here where he would be under the supervision of his friends and his foster parents. They would report if he was doing anything too rebellious. After all, the boy was just a new rider with a slightly large ego.


	3. Chapter III

**The Young Riders of Pern**

**Chapter III: ****Weyrling Training**

**Mid-day, Benden Time**

"Line up!" The weyrlingmaster ordered. The forty-eight weyrlings scrambled into a line, their dragons sitting on the perches behind them. The weyrlingmaster, a brown rider named W'ten, paced back and forth in front of the riders, sizing them up and examining them closely. "Organize according to color!" He ordered. "Greens group over there!" He shouted, pointing towards the lake. "Blues over there!" He said, finger towards the bowl. "Browns over by the Star Stone!" He shouted. "And bronzes stay here!"

The weyrlings all looked around and scurried towards the correct place. Most of them were muttering in confusion. Weren't all weyrlings supposed to train with one another? Since when were they divided by color? Hopefully they would be given an explanation.

"Quiet!" W'ten ordered the seven bronze riders who were muttering before him. "For those of you who are unaware, my name is W'ten! I have been the senior weyrlingmaster for almost seven Turns. As such, I will not hold with any immature pranks that will place any dragons or weyrlings at risk." He paused for breath. "Before we begin, are there any questions?" Only one student, a boy name G'lon, raised his hand. "What?" W'ten demanded.

"Why are the colors being separated?" He asked.

"That's not your concern," the weyrlingmaster snapped. "Just know that I am _your _master and that's all that matters."

T'rant sighed. He was not one who was used to accepting 'no' for an answer and he was curious as well. "We're expected to fight Thread with other dragons," he pointed out. "But we're not expected to work with them before hand?"

W'ten sighed and looked at T'rant. The weyrwoman had warned him about this boy. It was the primary reason that he had asked to be made weyrlingmaster for the browns instead of the bronze dragons. It didn't matter though. He was in charge and a weyrling would no be showing him attitude.

"You are expected to follow my instructions," he replied coolly. "We'll see if you're even capable of doing that before we see if you're capable of fighting Thread."

T'rant's eyes narrowed. He gnashed his teeth together to stop from saying something sarcastic. He was in enough trouble with Lessa as it was. He didn't need extra chores from the weyrlingmaster as well as the weyrwoman's constant eye.

"Anyway, today will be a very basic day. We will be testing your dragons to see if they are currently capable of flight. Seeing as how you are all bronze riders, I would say that they all should be. It's usually only greens and a very few blue dragons who cannot fly by the end of their sixth month. This is to test both their abilities and your own! You will ride with them, but I as I've already said: I will not hold with any pranks or jokes!"

This caused a cheer to explode from the bronze riders. A single look from their weyrlingmaster silenced them. W'ten removed his crooked spectacles and began to wipe them on his shirt. "Let me ask you this," a bronze rider said. "When will our dragons be able to go _between_?"

W'ten sighed. This was a question he was used to receiving and quite frankly, he was annoyed by it. "Your dragons are only half a year old!" He said in an exasperated tone. "They are still growing rapidly and still need to be oiled regularly. Their hide will not be ready to go _between_ for several months still."

T'rant groaned. He had been hoping to get to that soon. F'lessan had told him about a place in the High Reaches where he took Golanth hunting. It had sounded like fun, but oh well. Soon enough he would be able to take Wornth.

"Now, wait here. I must go speak with Y'zall, the green weyrlingmaster. There is one student that I need to speak to him about. While I am gone, I want you to speak with your dragons and explain what I have just said. My Quereth will check in with them and explain anything you failed to." With that said he turned away and started towards the lake.

"Explain anything we failed to?" One of the young bronze riders muttered. "How dumb does he think we are?"

T'rant passed the message along to Wornth, annoyance running clear in his mind.

_What's wrong? _The bronze dragon asked his rider.

"Nothing," T'rant muttered. "This guy just has an ego problem."

_So do you. _The bronze dragon pointed out.

T'rant turned and looked at the hill where Wornth was sitting with blue Farrith. "Whose side are you on?" He snapped. He turned away and scowled at the ground until W'ten reappeared, a young man by his side. The man was roughly twenty Turns old and had a large Thread scar across his cheek.

"All of you, this is R'ntol, from Fort Weyr. He's brought news to the weyrleaders and has offered to assist us for the day."

The Fort rider waved his hand in greeting, and then folded his arms. "These are the bronze riders?" He asked. W'ten merely nodded. "Wow. Things have really gone down hill since my day," he said playfully.

"Are you a bronze rider then?" G'lon asked.

"No," R'ntol replied. "I am a brown rider, like Master W'ten here. But, I do have a bronze fire lizard, if that makes any difference," he said with a chuckle. The weyrlings regarded him dryly, but he failed to notice.

Some of the boys rolled their eyes. Why were they being instructed by brown riders? They hadn't even managed to Impress as well as they had! Some of them were tempted to stalk off and find someone else. T'rant was at the top of the list.

"T'rant, I'loj, and K'mor will go with R'ntol. The rest of you are with me. Go!"

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T'rant hopped onto Wornth with practiced ease. R'ntol gave them the signal and T'rant gave the order. Wornth leapt off the ground and into the air. His large wings spread quickly and caught the wind. Both dragon and rider felt the air beneath them supporting the bronze beast. Wornth adjusted his wings slightly so that the wind would direct him upward, sending him higher into the air.

T'rant looked back and could see the other two bronze pairs he had been working with behind him. As he looked around he saw the world from an entirely new perspective. Dragons filled different sections of the air. He saw two wings flying south, towards the next Threadfall. The green weyrlings were soaring over the lake, trying to stay afloat. The blues were near the bowl and the browns hovered just above the Star Stone. Ramoth was flying towards her weyr urgently, but T'rant paid little heed to the senior queen of Benden.

The bronze rider felt alive like never before. He felt powerful and unstoppable atop his dragon, his partner, his brother. He was absolutely free now! There was no one who could control him anymore! This was the way to live! He would never again be content to sit back on the ground crews and char any Thread the dragons missed. He would be up in the air, the breeze in his face, tossing his hair back. Wornth would sear Thread before anyone else could see it coming. He and his dragon were the best and they always would be.

Wornth roared in delight as he reached new levels of altitude. The bronze dragon flew higher and higher, directly towards his enemy, the Red Star. One day the bronze dragon would fight! One day the Star's menacing offshoots would be nothing against him.

The bronze dragon roared again and spread his wings. It began to hover, high above the weyr. All the other dragons watched in amazement at the fact that the young bronze could hold himself at that altitude without quickly wearying. Instead of falling the dragon let out another thunderous roar. He was Wornth, a dragon of Pern. He was the mount of the great T'rant, Dragonrider of Pern. Together, the two of them would one day be a legend. One day, the harpers would sing of their greatness and children would have one more story to aspire them to become the next Dragonriders.

_Quereth comes! _Wornth warned.

T'rant looked back and saw the brown dragon coming towards them. He couldn't see the expression on W'ten's face, but odds were he wasn't pleased. The larger brown dragon settled himself in the air just in front of Wornth. T'rant had guessed right. The weyrlingmaster wasn't happy.

"You were ordered not to go above the Star Stone!" He snapped.

"That wasn't a 'test of our abilities' though!" T'rant pleaded. "Even a green would be bored by that!"

"Do not disrespect green dragons with that tone, T'rant. You are a dragonrider now! Act like it!"

"I'm trying! But in this damned weyr seems to be against the idea of Wornth maturing at a quicker pace than others!"

"Watch your tone, boy!" The weyrlingmaster spoke, his tone colder than ice. "This is Benden Weyr! This is the home to the largest and most powerful dragons on Pern! Do you think yours is the first to grow quickly? Do you think you are the first rider who wanted everything right away? Of course not! Now take Wornth back to your weyr and see me after dinner!"

With that said, Quereth turned quickly and dove towards the ground. With a groan, T'rant followed him down to the ground. Looks like he had managed to get himself in trouble with the weyrlingmaster after all.

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W'ten stood calmly beside the Star Stone, his face cold as ice. He gazed out at the lake, watching his Quereth bathe himself. His green fire lizard, Flick, sat perched on his shoulder. W'ten could hear footsteps behind him. He turned his head slightly so he could see T'rant out of the corner of his eye.

"How was dinner?" He asked casually.

"Meatrolls and klah," T'rant replied. "The usual."

W'ten didn't respond. He only continued to gaze out at the setting sun. "There's been quite a bit of talk about you recently, T'rant," he spoke after a fair amount of silence.

"Oh?"

"Yes. I don't believe we've ever had a weyrling like yourself," he said with a chuckled. "And we've had eager boys before, but not like you."

"How am I different?" He asked.

"You stood up to a queen dragon and laid claim to one of her eggs, when you should have been in bed."

"Wornth-,"

"was Impressed in the shell, yes, I've heard."

"It's the truth!" T'rant insisted.

"It's hard to believe otherwise. Wornth wouldn't leave poor Lessa alone until she believed him," the weyrlingmaster said with a chuckled. T'rant smiled proudly. His dragon did have dedication. "The fact that you Impressed in the shell also separates you from other boys."

"I don't think so," he replied with a shrug.

"Well, it won't earn you any special treatment," W'ten agreed. "But it has put you under observation."

"Meaning?"

"You're different from most boys, T'rant. You know that. It has obviously done wonders for your ego." T'rant shrugged and nodded in agreement. "But your attitude towards Lessa and Ramoth, your fight during Threadfall, and your complete disregard for my instructions hasn't gone unnoticed. Lessa has already doubled your chores, I believe, not that it seems to help."

"So what then?"

"You and Wornth will be taught one on one with F'lessan. He has already volunteered to oversee your training. It will be more difficult than regular training and I'm not sure if you will be able to handle it. While you are not training, you will either be doing your work from Lessa and Manora or you will be copying down of manuscripts and books that are fading. Fort Weyr has several old volumes that we would hate to lose." T'rant groaned. This is exactly what he didn't need right now. "You will learn obedience T'rant. Otherwise, you will never be able to fight Thread with Wornth. You both have potential, but you could very well waste it all if you keep this up."

"Yes sir," T'rant replied calmly, despite the fact that he felt that he was about to explode.

"Dismissed."

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_What's wrong? _Wornth asked when he re-entered their weyr.

"It's nothing," T'rant replied, trying to keep his mind as far from his inner turmoil as possible.

_I can see you're not okay. Tell me!_

"I'm alright. Don't worry about it."

_Is it something I did? _The dragon sounded worried. T'rant looked up into his big currently violet eyes. The rider shook his head quickly.

"No! Of course not!" He insisted. "You've done nothing wrong."

_Are you sure? _

"Of course. I'm not mad at you. I'm just… tired."

_Okay…_

T'rant sighed and fell onto his bed. He turned away from the bronze dragon to face the wall. He didn't sleep much that night. At some point Wornth drifted off into an uneasy sleep. When the rider was sure his dragon couldn't hear him, he silently considered what to do next.

**Okay, so that's the third chapter, fixed version. I think I got out all the age errors, but if you still see one let me know. Thanks. **


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